There is an old empty house that stands alone in the middle of a large group of trees, it is a two-story Victorian style that has been long since abandoned and left to fall into ruin. The paint though bright white has lost its luster and is peeling, showing the house's true age, many of the windows are covered in dirt and most others have been broken out by vandals. The grass lawn has grown out of control and much of it has been taken over by weeds, the narrow sidewalk that leads to the broken down rickety front porch is barely there, the whole scene in front of you gives you pause, as you stop and look up at the black cloudy sky as the first drops of rain begin to fall, in the distance you can hear the rumblings of slow rolling thunder and when the lightning flashes it chills you to the bone.
The downpour begins, slowly at first, but it quickly builds up steam, and you run for the cover of the front porch of the eerie old house, your foot goes through the rotting wood of the second step and your ankle makes a popping noise, and you make it up to the porch as you wince in pain. But you are out of the rain now, you feel relieved, almost safe, but you never see the door knob slowly turn, the inhuman calculating eyes watching your every move. The door slowly creaks open and a cold dead hand grabs you by the ankle, startled you kick at it but to no avail as it slowly drags you inside you make eye contact with it, and you can feel your own screams rise and choke up in your throat, you hear the door slam, and when the darkness comes to surround you suddenly, there is nothing.
What is wrong with this picture? There is no blood, no guts, no entrails strewn across the floor, no hulking hockey mask wearing homicidal maniac wielding a chainsaw, or machete, or something far worse. No collection of body parts, no chains rattling, no moans, so sound at all in fact, just you alone with some unseen monster, who will bring death to you. What scares you? for most people nowadays it seems it's always something different, for some? They like seeing a decapitated head slowly rolling across the floor coming to rest at the killer's feet, for others it's seeing some poor unsuspecting schmuck who never seems to see it coming, getting chopped up into little pieces. but is that really horror? or is it simply something that shocks and shakes you to the core because of the brutality of the scene.
I love the horror genre, but unlike most modern audiences, I really love it when it takes its time, when it shows me that it has the patience to properly set up the scene. To take me by the hand and lead me up to the front door, it pushes me and prods me in just the right direction, and it shows me the main course, but for the first time, for only for a split second. Now I don't mind a little bit of blood here and there, as long as it doesn't disconnect me from the actual story, just don't beat me over the head with it, I'm not bloodthirsty. When I was a kid, Alfred Hitchcock's movies used to terrify me, he was a masterclass storyteller, and he just got it, Hitchcock always seemed to know just the right time to pull back and let the audience's own imagination take the lead. Those were and still are the kinds of movies that just stick with me after I see them for weeks on end. wondering, but never knowing for certain, what was behind that last door? sometimes it's what we aren't allowed to see that is truly terrifying.
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